Memorable Memories
by SoundzofSilence
Summary: Memories of Raistlin from childhood to death that were revealed by an unmentionable source. Read what the books edited out and Raistlin Majere never told.
1. Banned

**Author's Note:** During the time period of the Soulforge when Tanis, Flint, Sturm, Tasslehoff, Kitiara, Caramon, and Raistlin are on their way to Haven. Tanis and Flint plan to sell swords. The Majere siblings are investigating Belzor. Sturm and Tas are tagging along.

These are not real memories of Raistlin's, but merely amusing situations I, the writer, have fabricated to amuse.

* * *

The group was stranded in the forest on the trail to Haven. Another wheel of the wagon had broken and they had used their spare for the other already. Tanis was busy attempting to hail passers on the road. 

Meanwhile, Flint Fireforge guarded his items he planned to sell in Haven during the annual Carnival from his new kender friend, Tasslehoff Burrfoot. The merchandise was more than swords, but jewelry, daggers, weapons, and other musings the dwarf could smithy.

Sturm and Caramon paced the area, alert bordering on paranoia. They brandished their swords at every rustle from a bush and skewered foliage that blew gently in the wind.

Kitiara, Raistlin and Caramon's half sister, amused herself by observing them and once in a while baiting the knight and warrior by informing them she had heard a noise in a certain direction. One or both of them would herd over, battle ready, and tramp back humiliated but eager for action.

Raistlin merely kept his brilliant blue eyes on all of them as he studied spells he would possibly need to defeat Widow Judith.

Kitiara paused in her game. "I smell smoke," she announced, sniffing the air and turning her head.

"Someone's cooking something good," Caramon inhaled deeply.

"The smoke is coming from that direction," Sturm said, pointing his father's sword toward the deeper part of the forest.

True enough, wisps that weren't snatched away by the breeze were visible. Raistlin smelled the scent of fresh pine burning and meat cooking. He assumed the person or persons were fueling their fire with green pine needles to roast their purloined goods.

"Let's see if they have a spare wheel," Tas exclaimed, ready to charge into the foliage.

Flint grabbed the collar of his impulsive friend's collar. "And what if they are like those eerie snake priests we saw on the road earlier?" the dwarf questioned.

"Or thieves raid the wagon while we investigate?" Sturm put in.

Kitiara stood from her comfortable tree trunk chair, brushing off her butt and thighs. "Sturm, Flint, and Tasslehoff can stay and watch the wagon," she began.

"What?" The kender burst.

"Caramon, Raistlin, and I will see what's cooking," Kit finished, smiling crookedly at her own joke. "Tell Tanis if he comes back that we're checking for danger."

Kit drew her sword and stepped toward the direction the smoke was coming from silently. Raistlin wondered where she had learned that skill. Caramon, on the other hand, winced as he seemed to trample on every snappy twig and crunchy leaf.

"Caramon, you sound like a herd of gully dwarves," Kitiara scolded quietly.

The big man gave a sheepish smile and, somewhat, managed to be less noisy.

Raistlin's long fingers disappeared into a pouch of his spell components, lips poised to say a newer spell. Excitement buzzed through him. He longed to test his magic on a malefactor. Perhaps this was his opportunity. They reached the edge of a clearing. All Majere siblings were disappointed to see a girl no more than thirteen with black hair wearing a crimson shirt and flowing ebony pants cooking meat over a pleasant smelling fire.

Kitiara, Caramon, and Raistlin emerged from the brush and the girl glanced up.

Her face was thin and pinched, but merry and her lips were arched in a wide smile. The girl's green eyes gleamed with joy and surprise yet with much wisdom. Raistlin could tell their little 'vagabond' was intelligent. Her skin was white as the conjurer's robes when he originally got them- now a light brown.

"Salutations, travelers," she greeted, smile in place.

"Greetings," Raistlin returned.

"What are you cooking?" Caramon asked, practically drooling over the cooking meat.

"Kidneys of a rabbit," the girl answered. "Want one?"

Face slightly green, the warrior wasn't drooling anymore. "No thank you," he refused politely. "Why are you going to eat the kidneys?"

"So you don't piss me off," the girl giggled. "Don't worry. These aren't the kidneys."

Kitiara chuckled. Raistlin's lips twitched into a wry smile. Caramon laughed heartily.

"So what's a lone, young girl like you doing out in the world? Why don't you come with us to Haven," Kit offered with her classic charming crooked smile.

"I can't. I'm banned from Haven," the girl admitted.

All three of them arched their eyebrows. "Why?" Caramon asked.

"Perhaps because she is half kender," the perceptive white robe suggested.

It was true. The girl was smaller than the average thirteen year old human yet tall for a kender. Her human clothing was baggy on her thin, tall form.

"No, it's because I drove someone insane," she contradicted, grinning.

"What do you mean?" Kit asked cautiously.

"Damion, my friend, said I was as annoying as a kender. So we built a booth with a glass window for the audience to see through and found a kender. Damion locked a man with the kender and a man with me," the half-kender female explained. "My man dove through the window first, but he lost his mind. The mayor happened to be close by and I'm banned from Haven until I mature. At least in the mayor's eyes or until another is elected," she grinned. "But perhaps my kender heritage _does_ have something to do with being banned."

The two warriors and magician were silent. They watched the banished girl flip her roasting meat with a wooden spatula.

"We're going to take you with us into Haven," Kit told her. "What's your name?"

The girl's face broke out into the largest smile yet. Her green eyes screamed of mischief. "Arihanna."

* * *

"I can't believe the guards didn't find her," Tanis muttered as their newest addition to the group climbed from inside the hollow of the wagon's seat where the driver sits. 

Arihanna and Tasslehoff hugged one another enthusiastically and began the kender ritual of trading possessions.

"She _is_ part kender," Raistlin reminded the half elf as they both watched Arihanna try trading Sturm's father's sword for a weighty bag of sugar. Tanis groaned as the half-kender girl dashed off into the festivities with the knight's sword with Sturm in hot pursuit. The half elf ran after them to explain to the approaching authorities a kender had stolen his friend's sword. The young magician jumped as he turned as saw Arihanna grinning up at him mischievously. As expected, she didn't have Sturm's sword.

"Are you a good mage?" she inquired.

"I suppose I am," Raistlin replied slowly, wary eyes on her hands.

"Would you like to see a magic trick?" she asked.

The conjurer wordlessly nodded. Arihanna strode over to his tent and lifted a flap, revealing the stick that propped the tent had been replaced with a rather old fashioned, ancient-looking sword.

"Here come the town guards," Raistlin lied.

Arihanna gasped and hit the ground running.

* * *

"What are you planning to do with all that sugar?" Flint asked suspiciously, squinting at the grinning half kender. 

"I'm going to execute plan S.P.A.Z.," she giggled, dividing a large bag of pure sugar into smaller sacks.

"Plan S.P.A.Z.?"

"Super Potent…" Arihanna trailed off. "Well, I haven't thought of a correct word that means I'm going to have kender spoil the festival."

"You're going to have kender ruin the Carnival?" Flint snorted in disbelief.

Arihanna nodded. "Kender are naturally energetic. Imagine the chaos they could cause if they ate sugar."

Flint paled.

With a secretive smile, the half kender disappeared.

* * *

"Banned!" the dwarf roared the day the Carnival was over. "I can't believe we got banned for exposing phony gods!" 

"Or Raistlin almost getting burned on a stake by the angry town people," Caramon threw in, shivering.

The white robe shuddered. That had been close, too close.

"I can't believe I'm banned from Haven!" Flint snorted again, scowling at the closed gates.

"I'm banned too," a familiar voice said. "Again."

Flint, Raistlin, and Caramon's heads went down to see Arihanna dressed in a pink blouse and large paint spattered overalls.

"What happened to plan S.P.A.Z.?" The dwarf inquired.

The four heard the town guards shout something about crazy kender. They watched as the officers rushed away from the gates that were shut to them forever.

"It's in effect right now," Arihanna chortled.

Flint, Raistlin, and Caramon stared at her in mute astonishment.

"I was caught dealing the last of my sugar to kender," Arihanna began, a child-sized hand gesturing at the gates. "They banned me forever and kicked out all the kender, but they got back in as you can hear. So I've be-been b-b-banned from Haven," the half-kender female finished between peals of laughter.

Flint shook his head and said something about preferring his doorknob of a kender, walking off the check that his left over merchandise wasn't borrowed by Tas.

Caramon loped to Kitiara as she called him over.

Arihanna sent Raistlin a kind smile. "You are a diamond in the rough. Not many can see that. You will achieve terrible but great things in your lifetime. Success and fame are embroidered on your hem."

The white robe stayed silent in astonishment, staring.

"So," Arihanna grinned, "what were _you_ banned for?"


	2. Tika

Raistlin sat on the ground, back leaning against a vallenwood tree trunk. He watched his twin and the other boys play Knights with Kitiara enviously. He was too weak physically to rough house with his peers.

"Hello."

The young boy glanced up at the face of a curious girl. She had fiery orange hair that resembled a mat. Freckles sprinkled her white face and her green eyes were bright with the light of curiosity.

Raistlin mumbled something of a greeting, eyes back on the hearty game taking place before him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Raistlin," responded the boy, piercing blue eyes focused on her.

"I'm Tika," she introduced without proper introduction. "Do you want to play with me?"

The weak boy had never been asked to play before. Naturally he accepted eagerly although he answered calmly enough. Tika lead him to a crowded square in Solace by his wrist.

Tika pushed her way past the taller adult folk with ease, dragging Raistlin behind her. He nearly stumbled twice, aware of his shabby dirty state compared to the clean adults. It was humiliating.

The tomboyish girl led her new playmate through a side door of a building. Raistlin watched a man in purple robes with stars sewn on them make flowers appear into his hand and doves appear from thin air from a stage. He and Tika witnessed strange and mystical things.

The performance ended and the man bowed. The audience clapped respectfully before draining back into the streets. Tika hauled Raistlin before the man.

"Father, this is Raistlin and he said he's going to play with me," she grinned.

The man smiled kindly. "Hello Raistlin."

"Greetings sir," the boy muttered shyly. He went up the steps and, to the astonishment of Tika and her father, pulled a bouquet of fresh posies from his sleeve and handed them back to their owner, who was stunned.

One by one, Raistlin repeated every last trick of Tika's father's flawlessly, impressing the street magician and daughter.

The man arched his eyebrows and blew his breath out as the young boy stepped down from the performing stage. "Well, son, you are extraordinarily dexterous with your hands. How would you like to come by tomorrow and learn some more tricks?"

Raistlin smiled softly. "I would like that sir."


	3. A Simple Act of Kindness

Raistlin placed the packages on the table and stared at them as if they would reveal the answers to all his problems. The small packages themselves were identical—black boxes bound with ribbons, however one ribbon was gold and one was silver. One was addressed to him while the other was addressed to his apprentice, Dalamar.

It was near Yuletide, but the gold-skinned mage hadn't been expecting any gifts, nice or not.

He hardly ever received gifts; if anything, this was another hate message or inventive assassination attempt. Upon examining the packages for spells and other magical booby traps, Raistlin could tell the quality of the boxes. They were made by humans skilled in the art of decorating and, judging by the ornate wrapping, casing presents.

The method of delivery was a mystery, one that the Master of the Palanthas Tower of Sorcery intended to discover. But the bell had rung to alert him of some being's presence in the Shoikan Grove and the black boxes sat on his doorstep.

The boxes themselves were not enchanted or magical in any way that he could sense, meaning the exterior was safe…but Raistlin remained cautious.

Dalamar arrived and his _Shalafi_ gestured toward the box with the silver ribbon. "We have a secret admirer," the mage whispered dryly.

Black eyebrows rising in surprise, his apprentice picked up his box and read the card aloud, more to himself than his Master. " 'Everyone has one, you were not skipped, though few see it.' " Raistlin's own card had a matching inscription in unfamiliar curvaceous black lettering.

The Black Robe watched as Dalamar tugged an end piece of the silver and the entire ribbon came undone. Sliding the shimmering band into his robes, the dark elf warily opened the box. Raistlin's curiosity piqued when his apprentice peered inside and then paled considerably, sharply sucking in his breath. When the dark elf began blinking tears and smiling like an idiot, the archmage reached for his own parcel and unwrapped it.

Inside was a pearl-colored heart, but the heart was made of layers thinner than the delicate parchment cocooned around it.

Raistlin recognized the pastry—honey wafers.

Silvanesti silver bees produced a rare honey that was impossibly flimsy but utterly desirable and therefore insanely expensive. The honey was mixed with crystal dew and flower pollen. Leaves of plants and flowers from Silvanost was the crystal dew, the plant's life trapped in every precious droplet, each plant gave a distinct flavor. Even richer was the earthly flower pollen.

Normally, the sweets were devoured on special occasions. No one outside the elven country knew the secret of the delicacy's construction.

Surprisingly, the honey wafer heart smelled and looked freshly made.

Raistlin gazed into the black box, surprised. _Two_ honey wafer hearts…

As he fondly smiled softly at the thoughtful gift, the mage wondered how much it had cost the sender and who the sender was.

* * *

Dalamar was crying. Stumbling to the other side of the room, he had to set the treat on his table and collapse into a chair. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing, yet smiling. A piece of Silvanesti. Joy and torment tore him in two directions.

Under his honey wafer a card said: _I heard you needed a little sunshine_.

* * *

The Master of the Past and Present lifted his honey wafer creation and sampled a nibble. It melted in his mouth, creating an explosion of flavor. His mouth filled with unmistakable velvet sweetness and tastes he could not describe.

Rose. The flavor was rose.

Raistlin glanced at his weeping apprentice. "Sunshine," the dark elf explained, happily smiling weakly.

"Rose," the _Shalafi_ returned.

Raistlin spotted a white card inside and picked it up before placing his treat into the black box. He read silently: _It's been told you smell of rose petals, Master._

The mage smiled wryly from the depth of his cowl. This Yuletide someone had made him smile and his apprentice cry…

All because of a simple act of kindness.


	4. Making of the Chamber of Seeing

Raistlin frowned after a thorough inspection and cataloguing of his new home- The Palanthas Tower of High Sorcery. Although there was plenty of knowledge that had been lost since the Cataclysm (and rediscovered by him), barely any of it was related to Fistandantilus. The young archmage frowned. He would have to hunt down that information on his own later.

The most pressing matter on hand was a way to keep in touch with the world, keep current on events, and spy on those who would plot against him or events that would affect him. Yes, Raistlin had made many enemies, including the Conclave. He would have to increase and concentrate his powers: political, magical, and temporal.

The Conclave would be bound to send a spy as his apprentice for Raistlin would need an apprentice eventually; it was a matter of when. Raistlin would accept the apprentice and send him plodding back to his superiors with enough information to keep the Conclave guessing.

There would be assassins, attempts to thwart him, and such, but he would need to be prepared without leaving his Tower.

What better way than a magical artifact that allowed him to see where ever he wished?

A magical window or mirror.

Yes.

But in what shape? What dimensions or proportions?

Raistlin Majere sat down at an ancient, ornate, and priceless wooden desk that had been recently dusted off. His long gold fingers drummed on the burnable material, the tapping was the only sound in the lonely destitute tower. One of his hands unconsciously spun the Staff of Magius idly.

This was indeed a problem.

If things were not going according to plan, Raistlin needed a way to alter the situation slightly to nudge the plot back on track, meaning he needed a liquid surface to the magical window. The mirror also required light, a long-lasting light that would remain nearby at all times so Raistlin would not have to expand energy lighting the room over and over. Lastly, the mirror was required to extend its magical eye to every shadowed corner of Ansalon and beyond- to other dimensions and worlds.

The project would consume massive amounts of time, research, and magic, but it would be worth it.

In the end, it would be worth it all- the price he paid, this unsound body, the infernal cough- everything.

For Raistlin had an ultimate design above all others: daring, bold, and never achieved, but not impossible.

He pondered and puzzled, designing and discarding ideas, and picked out a suitable room located near the bowels of the Tower. The room would be called the Seeing Room. He furnished the room with torches only meant for the beginning stages of building the window and for the end, when only two torches would be required.

Raistlin, at the end of the month, smiled softly as he gazed down at the plans for the window.

It was a large pool filled with magical brackish water, a pale blue, seemingly other-worldly flame like a candle that would hover above the waters at all times; but the flame cast no light whatsoever. When one stared into the flame and thought of the place he should like to see, he would see and hear what was transpiring at the location.

The young archmage trusted no other than himself to perform the task of building such a dangerous, highly magical window for builders had loose tongues when introduced to wine and valuables. Raistlin spent months carving into the Tower floor with magic, measuring carefully and precisely. It had to be perfect. There would be no 'second time' or 'second mirror'.

The efforts exhausted him immensely and Raistlin often stopped to rest or cough. He kept reminding himself it would be worth it. That was the key, and he was left to craft the door into which the key would fit. On the other side of the door would be his goals.

Raistlin carefully dumped bucket after bucket of dark magic water into the smoothed basin. It filled slowly, the physical exertion taxing for he did not have enough strength to cast a spell that would transport or float the buckets into the room.

He cast the final spell, one formulated by himself and had yet to be tested, on the pool and the otherworldly jet blue flame flickered above the magical portal.

Raistlin called to mind the location he wished to see as he watched the pool anxiously.

"-Majere must be kept an eye on. He is a rogue mage, a powerful and dangerous one at that! We must send someone to stay near him at all times and report his activities-"

Raistlin Majere, the Master of the Palanthas Tower of High Sorcery and Hero of the Lance, laughed.


End file.
